


Hold Me, Please?

by orphan_account



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bullying, Depressing, Homophobia, I'm sorry simon baby, M/M, Ok idk man, Panic Attacks, it'll get dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-07 16:31:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14085006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A bad night brings Simon and Bram closer, if that's even possible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tw: attempted rape and homophobic language.

It's a perfect summer. 

_Obviously._

How else can you explain a summer in which you have the most amazing boyfriend? The coolest friends? And of course, a whole pack of Oreos.

It's nighttime. The sky is no longer a brilliant blue, but my Blue is right beside me, looking extremely adorable as he and Abby play chess. He's losing miserably, and my grin can't be stifled, even as he gives me a look of mock sadness.

"Who's side are you on, Si?" Bram demands, pouting.  _Adorable._

I laugh, and Abby joins in. 

"You might not know this, Greenfield," Abby says threateningly, waggling her finger in Bram's face, "but I'm an undefeated chess champion."

"Yeah, so am I," Bram grunts. 

"That ends this afternoon—as you can see." She smirks, gesturing to the chess set. I never get chess, and today is no exception. Plus, it's Family Night in the prison known as my home, and the female warden made me promise I'll be back by nine. So I get up and give Bram a quick kiss on the cheek, and both of them look up from their game, glancing at each other worriedly. I can't help but roll my eyes.

"Simon—" Bram starts.

"Oh my god, Bram. It's only a twenty-minute walk."

"Simon—" Bram starts again.

"Jesus Christ. _I have a phone, Bram._ I'm pretty much an adult."

"I don't get why we can't drop you, Si," Abby says, biting the inside of her cheek. "My new house is not exactly in the best neighborhood."

"Don't end your game because of me," I say, grabbing another Oreo. Before they raise more objections, I open the door, give them one last goodbye. "I'll see you all later. Don't get too competitive, hear?" 

Laughing to myself, I walk. The June night is surprisingly chilly. Bram had even told me to wear a jacket when we'd left for Abby's place, but I'd rolled my eyes, then, too. Of course, I'm a little annoyed Bram's so...protective, but a bigger part of me is melting. He cares about me. It's more than I could ever ask from him. 

 _I love him_ , I think to myself as I stroll contently. _I love everyone. I love life._ I hum as I rummage through my jean pocket for my earbuds. I place them in my ears, turn on Spotify shuffle.  _Perfect._ I'm so happy I decide to take the long way home, the way that goes through a deserted alley that contains the dumpsters of Domino's Pizza.

Ten minutes later, in between Harry Styles' belting, melodious notes in "Sweet Creature," I'm in the alley. It's deserted and eerie, and I have this feeling. You know the feeling—the one where the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You just can't help but feel you're being watched. Paranoid, I'm paranoid. I'm always paranoid anyway. It's fine. I close my eyes, then open them. I turn around.

No one's there.  _Jesus Christ, Simon, it's all because of Abby and Bram's paranoia. There's nothing._

I continue walking, but stop only a couple of minutes later. Because I hear them. Loud, laughing, booming voices. Muffled by something. 

_Dumpsters._

There's people hiding behind the dumpsters. Oh crap. Oh crap crap crap. But it's fine, maybe? Maybe they're hiding in the bushes because they like it there? Not because they're following me or something. That's a ridiculous claim—

"Well, well, well," somebody says, and I hear more somebodies crowd around me. I'm suddenly in the middle of some circle, made by six guys that look like they're in their last year of college or something. I twiddle my thumbs, walking immediately.

"Um, excuse me," I mumble, attempting to ignore the foreboding panic, trying to go in between the gaps of the circle, but at least three people grab me. I squirm, but they're stronger, much stronger. One of them forcibly yanks my phone out of my hand.

"No, stop—" My voice is cut off when a bigger member puts his meaty hand on my lips. _They're robbers. Is that it?_

"Are you sure it's the fag from the high school?" a man with dark hair and eyes—the leader of this pathetic gang?—asks, and my stomach drops to my toes. I continue to try and break free. What do they want? To beat me up? Get the gay out of me? This isn't some sort of thief thing—they know who I am.

The one who's gagging me nods. "Let him answer for himself," Leader says, amused. _Amused? How the hell can you be amused?_

"So, you're the openly gay kid, huh?" Leader asks. I'm shaking. Don't answer, Simon. Don't answer. Maybe they'll let you go.

"Look me in the eye, kid," he says gruffly, stepping closer towards me. In fact, they're all stepping closer towards me, if that's physically possible.

"Yes," I say, staring at him unflinchingly now, getting some courage in me back. I stand up straighter. "What do you want? Money or something? I'll give it to you, just let me go—"

"We don't need your money, faggot," another man says, and the others laugh. My eyes widen, and they laugh harder. The noises cut me through like a knife, and I furiously blink my tears away. I will not let these nauseating men see me cry.

"We've been looking for a sweet one to mess around with," Leader claims. "And then we found out about you—pretty little gay kid..."

I look around them, my whole body rocking. They're all looking at me...like predators.  _Mess around with..._

_Mess around with! Oh my god. Oh my god, please, no._

"Guys, don't, please—" But I stop. Bile is rising up my throat, I can't breathe, it's over, my life is over.  _Fight, you useless idiot!_ I can't, though, I can't at all. All I can do is shut my eyes as the first hand reaches my zipper—

 _Bram, please, save me, save me,_ I pray. And as I think about Bram, I really wish I were dead, because after about what's surely going to happen—the man attacking my clothes confirms that—he'll never want me anymore.

I let out a sob, and they all laugh once more.

"Aw, don't worry," Leader says softly, using his dirty, disgusting fingers to tilt my chin up. My watery grey eyes meet his tunneling black ones. "We picked a gay kid specifically so they can enjoy it."

 _Bram,_ is all I think, and then suddenly _Bram_ is all I see.

Because a car hurtling towards us—oh my god, Abby's car, my Abby, and there's Bram sitting in the front seat, looking at me—and the men bolt. Leader spares one last glance at me, and then they all leave me half-naked and sobbing with relief and pain and panic. 

"Simon, oh my god, Simon," Abby is saying, but Bram checks my pulse, puts me in his arms.

"Simon," he says, his voice cracking.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," is all I can manage, crying into his shirt, inhaling him. But I still cannot stop feeling like hell; feeling like I'm going to go to hell. 

"Nothing to be sorry about, Simon," Bram says, crying now. I want to tell him to stop crying, that I'm fine, even though I feel anything but. Yet I can't help it: I pass out.

_____________________________

Four hours and thirty-three minutes later, the police let me go. The questioning is over, after a lot of questions that made me want to throw up. But they said they'll find them all, after my descriptions of them. I still can't believe this happened to me; I'm in shock.

Mom's tears are drying; Dad is still silent. Nora keeps squeezing my hand. A cop gives me a solemn hug, and then steer the three of us away. They made Bram and Abby go after they filed what happened. But I spot Bram in the waiting room immediately. It's 12:43 and he's still there, eyes closed. His eyes open the moment I enter the room.

"Simon," he says, standing up. I feel like passing out again, but only in his arms. We walk outside together. Mom nods as I glance at her pointedly.

"I'm sorry," we say simultaneously. Then we look at each other.

"She had to go," Bram says after a few moments. "Abby, I mean. She didn't want to, but some sort of emergency. I don't know."

I nod mutely, and let the words form in my mouth. "Thank you. Both of you," I say, acting as if Abby were there. "What could've happened..." 

Bram puts his face in his hands when I say this. He's shaking, and I feel so terrible. If I weren't such an idiot, he wouldn't feel this guilt, I wouldn't continuously feel like I was still in the alley, even hours later.

"Simon," he says, looking up. Rage has coated each one of his beautiful features. "They're going to pay. I promise you; the police will catch them. And I hope I can see them, face them, tear them from limb to limb."

My bottom lip trembles, and I once again feel so powerless and vulnerable and weak and idiotic. "I'm so stupid. I should've listened to you."

Bram shakes his head. 

"How did you know?" I say, wiping my eyes. "Why'd you drive?"

"Your mom called. She asked if you were still at Abby's. I texted and called you like a million times."

"They took my phone," I say, my gut twisting.  _Weak._

"I just knew something was wrong. And Simon, I'm so glad you're okay."

"Hold me," I say. "Please?"

He scoops me up; it's the only way to solve this. I try not to cry as I let my hands roam wherever; this is Bram, not anyone dangerous, not anyone horrible. 

"It's because you love me. That's why you knew where I was."

He nods. "I do love you."

"I love you, Bram. So much."

"I love you more."

I could've debated on this, but I let myself be buried in him, in his love. The most fucked-up night of my life didn't end up so bad, after all.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ik this was supposed to be a one shot but i couldn't help myself (((:
> 
> three days after the incident, simon keeps having nightmares. luckily bram is there to comfort him.

_For whatever reason, I'm walking like I'm going to the gallows. Maybe because I am. I don't know._

_You can see the outline of square-roofed houses in the dark. None of the lights are on. Goosebumps form across my arms. I can't breathe. Darkness is scary because of the unknown. You can't blame me though, the unknown does make you feel like you want to shit your pants._

_"Please," I whisper into the darkness. I stop walking; I can't walk anymore the second I hear footsteps behind me._

_Nononono. Not again. Please no._

_I'm shaking from head to toe, and the second I feel his grip on the back of my neck, I wish I can just disintegrate into nothingness._

_"Look at me," he says, with that frightening softness, and I obey. He blends in with the blackness; I can only see the outline of him. I can also see the vague outlines of his friends behind him. I know his name now; Jase DeCruz. Leader. He's a junior in the local community college, and so are all of his friends. The police found them, and they got arrested. There's going to be a trial, although, my lawyer—my dad's friend—said it's quite obvious the verdict will be in my favor. So why are they back?_

_I want to scream at them to go away. I want to get their touch off of me. I want to, I want to, I want to. But I can't. All I can do is gape as Jase continues to talk._

_"I'm always going to be here, pretty fag," he says, taking my shirt off. No. "Always." No. "And everyone—" he says, kissing my neck, then pulling my hair—"knows by now." No._

_But he's right. Because the lights turn on. I can see their faces from the window, all staring at me. Disgusted at me._

_They're all turning away from me. Leah. Abby. Nick. Dad. Nora, for God's sake. My mother is crying, but she turns away. Mommy, no, please._

_But I still have one person that can help me. I know he will._

_My eyes finally look at the last house. And from the window I see—_

_Bram._

_Relief floods through me. I'm saved. Oh my god. I'm saved._

_But he's not moving. He's staring at me too, and Jase is touching my zipper—please, Bram, please—nothing is happening. He continues to stare. He's not going to save me. I thought he was going to save me._

_"Blame yourself," Jase says lustily. "You're the one that came out, so we chose you. And now you're all mine."_

I scream, and I awake like that. I'm jumbled in the sheets, crying. Cold sweat is pouring from my forehead. 

Contrasting to the darkness of my nightmare, Bram arrives, bringing his natural beacon of light. He's murmuring something, and I force myself back to life, listening to him as he strokes my hair.

"Simon, it's just a nightmare, baby," Bram says, his voice thick with sleep and tears. Thank God Mom has been letting him sleep over, although due to Rule 6 of "Boys Being Over At Simon's," he has to sleep on the floor.

"T-t-this time," I say between sobs, "n-n-not e-e-even you saved me."

"Simon," he says, putting his arms around me. I cuddle into his chest. "Simon, baby. I'll always be there to save you. It's just a nightmare."

I calm down, breathing heavily. I love breathing him in; he smells like home. Like vanilla and cologne and love.

"I'll always be there to save you," he repeats, and I fall into unconsciousness, dreaming only of vanilla and cologne and love.

 


End file.
